The Many Deaths of Jaune Arc
by FastFoodFanfiction
Summary: Jaune Arc had no business being in Beacon, so it should've been no surprise when he died on the first mission. For time to reset with every death, however? That was unexpected.


**A/N There's a Harry Potter fanfiction of similar name that I used as inspiration for this idea— the Many Deaths of Harry Potter by ShayneT. Although I haven't read all of it, the concept was fascinating to me, and it seemed like it'd fit well in a RWBY context. **

Book 1, Chapter 1: Surviving Day One

The world spun around him, and his vision fractured into a kaleidoscope of shifting hues. His gut lurched and writhed within him as though trying to break free of his ribcage. The dull finality of death confronted him, and he wilted. Oh, how it hurt! Sweet, sweet release bubbled from within, threatening to overwhelm him.

So he let go.

As he collapsed to the floor, he heaved. Black spots filled his vision. A terrible way to die, sure, but one he probably deserved.

"Ewwww! Eww! Eww!"

…

Was death supposed to sound so loud?

He cracked open an eye.

He was alive— alive! Not today, motion sickness!

The first thing he noticed was an expensive-looking, furred boot slick with dark green vomit an inch from his face.

_His _vomit.

Oh, gods…

His eyes trailed up from the boot, tracing a pair of pale legs up to a bulging torso and a pair of crimson eyes. What was a supermodel doing on a ship to Beacon Academy?

He might've tried to flirt with her had he not caused her what must be thousands in property damage.

"Oh, come on… watch where you're puking, Vomit Boy!" she hissed before dragging the queasy-looking girl beside her away.

Strangers were friends he hadn't met yet, or so his mother had told him. Thus far, he'd met two, and they seemed the opposite of friendly. He couldn't blame them.

Sighing, he struggled to his feet and stumbled toward the bathroom in preparation for another vomit. He'd lock himself in the bathroom and wait out the rest of the trip.

Not a good start, but hey— at least he was alive, right?

"The robbery was lead by notorious criminal Roman Torchwick, who continues to evade authorities…" droned a voice from the loudspeakers to which he paid no heed. All that mattered was finding a home for his puke— and fast.

After a few uncoordinated stumbles punctuated by brief pauses to hold in nausea, he wrenched open a private bathroom door, stepped in, and locked it. Almost directly after, a familiar sensation rose from within and he dashed to the sink.

"Blegh—ugh—blargh!"

A few heaves later, he was pretty sure there wasn't anything left inside him to vomit up.

He really, _really_ needed to refrain from eating anything before flights.

The boy in the mirror stared back at him with a tired gaze.

He was tall, six feet two, with a conventional body— average athleticism, average body type, average everything, really. Father always said he looked like him, and _he_ was a complete casanova. On more than one occasion, he'd unwillingly heard tales of his father's many, many conquests, all ending with the same moral: "Women like confidence. Confidence is key."

Confidence, thus far, had landed Jaune a track record of 0 for 7. Maybe 8?

Then again, his father had practically been born with a six pack, shredded muscles, and a chiseled face, while Jaune could practically see the potato lack of definition on his stomach and the little flabs of baby fat still plaguing his cheeks.

Confidence. He sighed.

Blind confidence was also the philosophy that led him here, faking transcripts and saving money for a chance to enter Beacon Academy.

With absolutely zero qualifications whatsoever.

_Confidence, Jaune. Confidence. _

It would work. It needed to.

=II=

Ten minutes off the ship and he was already hopelessly lost.

The grandeur of Beacon hadn't been lost on him. It'd probably made too big of an impression, because he'd practically lost all sense of direction after wandering aimlessly for a few minutes, admiring the colossal architecture.

Maybe a fellow student could help?

There— that tall, bulky guy in the suit of armor! He looked like a prospective student.

"Hi there!" smiled Jaune, walking up to him. "Name's Jaune, Jaune Arc. Now, I'm a bit lost at the moment and I—"

"Sounds like your problem," the guy snorted, turning away.

Ouch.

Apparently, enemies were also strangers he hadn't met yet.

No problem. So some people were jerks. They couldn't all be like that, right?

A shrill shriek burst out from his left, rattling his eardrums. Wincing, he turned to face the racket.

A girl lay flattened out against the ground, Dust all over her. Hey, wasn't she with the blonde he almost vomited on?

Bad choice, probably.

He cast his gaze to the source of the shriek.

Something in his brain broke.

Ho. Ly. Crap.

The physical embodiment of icy perfection stood before him shouting at the girl on the ground. She had sleek, snow-white hair, and her eyes were like portals to the most sublime crystalline glaciers. Everything about her glimmered in the sunlight.

Jaune sucked in the bit of drool leaking from his mouth.

Confidence. Confidence!

Just as he'd gathered enough to make his way over and chat the girl up, some other dark-haired girl came up and said something which made his Snow Angel storm off in a huff. At least he managed to learn her name from the encounter: Weiss, apparently. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

Though, he did feel a bit sore that his chance was snatched from him. Perhaps another day.

For now, there was a girl lying on the ground, and Mama Arc raised a gentleman.

"Hey," he said, holding out a hand as thrust his chest out, smiled, and projected as much confidence as he possibly could. "I'm Jaune."

"Ruby," the girl replied, taking his hand and hauling herself up with a smile. Ah, the old Arc charm was finally kicking in!

Then, she giggled. "Aren't you the guy that threw up on the ship?"

…. Never mind.

=II=

"The name's Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. Ladies love it." His tried and tested opening line.

The tests had gone poorly, of course, but Ruby didn't need to know that.

A little part of him died inside, however, when she raised and eyebrow and giggled. "Do they?"

"Well— they will!" he insisted. "My mom always said— uh… never mind."

=II=

That night, they slept in sleeping bags arrayed around the main hall. It was spacious and sported the trademark Beacon architectural style, like something drawn from both modern designs and castles from hundreds of years ago.

Jaune, having donned his pyjamas, began pacing about in search of a place to set down his sleeping bag. Oh! Ruby was over there, wasn't she? With her sister, as well! The one he'd… puked on…

_Confidence, Jaune, Confidence! _

The blonde was ogling a shirtless, toned guy that Jaune could grudgingly admit looked attractive.

Head held high, he stepped into her line of sight and gave her a confident smile.

To which she recoiled a bit, a mildly repulsed expression gracing her face.

_Dammit_.

Random corner it was.

At least this would be the last night he'd sleep in these conditions. Tomorrow, he'd have a team around him and a spacious dorm to fill. The mere prospect sent shivers down his spine.

_Beacon, here comes Jaune Arc! _

So giddy was he with excitement that he couldn't sleep for the next half hour. He spent most of the time tossing about in his bed. The forged transcripts had been a pain to procure, and convincing his parents that he'd found permanent— and secretive— work in Vale an ordeal on its own.

It didn't matter. He'd made it this far. One more day of pretending and he was _set_. All his life he'd wanted to be a Huntsman; both his parents were, and his grandfather before them. Hell, he still bore his great-great-grandfather's sword from the Great War!

This future was in his blood, and he'd done so much to fake his way in already. There was no going back.

He belonged here, he wanted to be here, and he'd prove it.

=II=

Maybe it was a bad sign when he couldn't locate his locker— which contained _all of his equipment_— on the day of Initiation.

"Ohh…." he groused, poking his head across both aisles. "Ridiculous! There's no way I put my gear in locker 636 yesterday… I'd have remembered having to count that high! Why did this have to happen today?"

The sea of lockers appeared before him, and he wanted to collapse to the floor and cry.

For the hell of it, he checked 636. His combination didn't work.

637?

638?

Screaming in frustration, he walked to the other aisle and randomly started picking lockers. 414… 422… 363—

Hey, it worked!

He almost wept as he took out Crocea Mors and cradled it against his body in a sort of awkward hug.

"Thank the gods…"

Sticking the sword into the sheath and strapping it nicely to his waist, he began to head back to where Initiation was supposed to begin— before a telltale lock of white hair caught his eye.

_Snow Angel! Don't drool. Don't!_

He caught a bit of spit on the corner of his lip. _Walk up to her and start putting on those sweet Arc moves! _

"—sounds grand!" a red-haired girl talking to her gushed.

_Perfect segue! Time to swoop in. _

"You know what else is grand?" he interjected, interposing himself between her and Snow Angel.

"Me. Jaune Arc. Nice to meet you."

"You again?" asked Weiss, crossing her arms.

"Nice to meet you, Jaune!" said unnamed redhead. Trying to interrupt their conversation? How rude!

"Yeah, yeah," he brushed her off. "So— couldn't help but overhear your fondness of me the other day. Want to team up?"

Not strictly true— she'd briefly pointed to him at some point, he was pretty sure— but he'd run with it.

"Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me," Weiss sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

_Even frustrated, she's perfect. Goodness, I could get lost in those eyes— _

"Actually, I think the teams are comprised of four people each, so—" unnamed, _annoying_ redhead interjected yet again.

"You don't say," he cut her off. Couldn't she take a hint? He was working his magic here! "Well, hot stuff, play your cards right and maybe you'll join the _winning_ team!"

Even he didn't know how he came up with these zinger one-liners. Creative genius, probably. They appeared out of nowhere!

"Jaune, is it?" said Weiss. Hearing his name on her lips almost toppled him. "This is Pyrrha. She graduated top of her class at Sanctum."

"Never heard of it."

"She's won the Mistral Regional Tournament four years in a row, a new record?"

"The what?"

"She's on the cover for every Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes box!"

Wait… what?

"That's _you_?" he cried. "They only do that for star athletes and cartoon characters!"

"Yeah… that was pretty cool. Sadly, I don't think it's very good for you," Pyrrha replied.

"After hearing all of that," finished Weiss, looking at him as though he were a fungal growth on her pinky toe, "do you really think you're in a position to ask _her_ to be on your team?"

_Urk… _

"Well… I guess not," he conceded. If confidence was key, the most beautiful girl on the planet was successfully crushing that key into a pretzel.

"Well actually, I think you'd make a great leader," Pyrrha reassured him, smiling.

He changed his mind. Pyrrha was awesome.

"Oh, stop it!"

"Seriously," growled Weiss. "Stop it. This kind of behavior should not be encouraged!"

Too late, Snow Angel! Pyrrha had not only resurrected his confidence, but bolstered him even more!

"Sounds like Pyrrha's on board for team Jaune. Seems like spots are filling up quick. Now, I'm not supposed to do this, but maybe I can pull some strings, find a place for you on the team. What do you say?"

He leaned in with a smile he hoped was disarming.

Instead of keeling over and begging to join, however, Weiss recoiled. "Alright, that's a bit too close. Pyrrha, a little help, please?"

The redhead— who he'd just now noticed was built like an Amazonian goddess— promptly nailed him to a locker. At least she had the decency to say "I'm sorry!" and, in passing, "It was nice meeting you!"

Maybe it'd have been more convincing if she didn't tug a javelin out of his hoodie while she said it.

=II=

Jaune wasn't sure he heard Headmaster Ozpin correctly. They'd be _launched_? On— on _launchpads_?

Into the air, hundreds of feet, before descending without a parachute to the ground.

This seemed more like some sort of ancient torture device than an assessment exam.

Heck, at least the guillotine made things clean and quick. If he were really launched, they'd be picking out bits of Jaune from tree branches for weeks!

Add to that, the first person he made contact with would be his teammate for the next _four years?! _

_Oh, no… _

Apparently, there'd be Grimm down there as well, though that was much less concerning than surviving the impact on hard ground when propelled at near terminal velocity speeds.

"Um, sir? This landing strategy… are you dropping us off or something?" he asked, hoping against hope it was true.

"No. You will be falling," answered Ozpin, calmly taking a sip of his tea.

"I… see."

_Nonononononono—_

"And… did you hand out parachutes for us?"

He knew the answer, but asked anyways.

"No. You will be using your own landing strategy."

"Uh-huh… so, what exactly is a landing strateg—"

And then he was hundreds of feet in the air, flailing his legs and arms around in some sort of vain attempt to fly.

A scream far higher pitched than he'd known he was capable of screeched from his lungs.

He was going to die. Oh gods, he was going to die!

The ground was rushing up— or he was going down— it didn't matter, because he'd be a Jaune pancake within the next second!

_I wasn't ready for this. What was I thinking, sneaking in a transcript to a place as prestigious as Beacon?! I'm going to die and it's all my fault and oh, what about my parents and my siblings?! Ahhhhhh—_

His mental scream became a physical one as he descended past the treeline. Or maybe he'd been screaming the whole time, he couldn't really tell or remember.

_Goodbye, cruel world… _

Then, a familiar red javelin nicked him precisely by the collar of shirt, pinning him bodily to the tree behind him.

Leaning back against the thick trunk, he gasped for air. "Thank you…"

Well, stuck to a tree was infinitely better than dead, he supposed.

Now, he just had to get off. One hand gripped the shaft of the javelin, the other the end. He pulled as hard as he could. Apparently, he had the strength of a precocious toddler, because the thing didn't so much as budge.

Grunting, he tried again, putting all of his body into it. It wiggled a little bit! Though that may have been his optimistic imagination…

Wait a second… wasn't that Weiss?

The physical embodiment of absolute beauty glanced up as him. Their eyes met. Sparks flew— or so he thought.

His partner for the next _four years_, Weiss?!

"Buhh…. Heh heh…" he gurgled happily. Damn it, mouth!

Weiss promptly turned and left.

"Urk… hey, wait! Come back! Who's going to get me down from here?!"

"Jaune?" a voice called, and in that moment, to him, it sounded like that of an angel. "Do you have any spots left on your team?"

Pyrrha Nikos was a saint.

=II=

Compared to the rest of what he'd had to face that day, a branch hitting him in the face was a breeze.

Admittedly, though, it did knock him down— and that cut on his face did hurt.

"I'm sorry!" Pyrrha seemed to be apologizing an awful lot for his incompetence.

"It's okay," he mumbled.

"Why didn't you activate your aura?"

"My…what?"

"Your aura."

"Gesundheit."

"Jaune…" Pyrrha narrowed her eyes. "Do you _know_ what aura is?"

He froze. Jaune Arc was a top-of-his-class Hunter straight from Vacuo's best prep school— at least on paper! He needed to act the part.

"Of _course_ I know what aura is! Do _you_ know what aura is?" he blustered.

"Aura," Pyrrha continued, ignoring him, "is the manifestation of our soul. It bears our burdens and shields our hearts. With practice, aura can be our shield. Everyone has it, even animals."

"What about monsters?"

"No. The monsters we fight lack a soul. They are Grimm— the manifestation of anonymity. They are the darkness, and we are the light."

"Right," agreed Jaune."That's why we fight them!"

"Understanding both dark and light helps us manifest our aura. Everyone has some of both. By bearing your soul outward as a force, you can deflect harm. All of our tools and equipment are conduits of our aura."

His eyes lit up. "It's like a force field!"

"Yes," she smiled. "If you want to look at it that way."

_Sick_.

_"_Now, close your eyes and concentrate."

"Uh… okay?"

She stepped in close, placing a hand on his cheek, and she was going to kiss him, wasn't she? He couldn't help it— he couldn't! His Arc genes drew women like moths to flame—

"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality…"

His puckered lips didn't quite understand what was happening until Pyrrha had finished her chant. When he opened his eyes, she was hunched over, panting lightly.

"Pyrrha?"

"It's alright," she assured him. "I used my aura to unlock yours, but the energy that protects you now is your own."

He _did_ feel something like a spiritual cloak covering his body, moving as though it were alive. The cut on his face vanished in an instant.

"You have a lot of it," she commented.

=II=

Only an hour of hiking later with two now-burning thighs did they make headway. "There!" Jaune pointed at a suspicious-looking cave. He ventured in first and began wading through ankle-high water. It sure was dark in here, but that must be part of the test, right?

Anyhow, Pyrrha was beside him, and she hadn't raised an objection. She was an absolute badass. If he was wrong, she'd let him know. Probably.

Oh, what was that shiny thing in the dark? It glowed like some sort of warm, reassuring lamp!

"That's the relic!" he cried, dashing up to it. Wow. Up close, it appeared a lot bigger than he'd thought it to be.

He reached out a hand and grabbed for it—

Only to have it pull away at the last second. "Hey! Bad relic!"

Another attempt lead to the same result.

Was this some sort of final trial? If they thought this would stop him, they were underestimating Jaune Arc!

He threw himself at the thing, latching onto its hooked end.

"Gotcha!"

"Jaune?"

Pyrrha sounded nervous, which should've been the first major red flag.

Myriad red spots flared in the darkness, outlining the form of something _massive_.

Oh…

Two bone pincers about four times his size wrenched up beside him and caught him in their grasp. He screamed. Even with the added protection of aura, they were crushing his body. He wasn't sure he could hold out another ten seconds!

"Jaune!" Pyrrha shouted, throwing her shield at the massive Grimm holding him captive.

It flared crimson and yellow, arcing in a blur. His savior!

Wait…

What was this glowing yellow thing sticking through his chest?

Pyrrha screamed, and then the pain hit.

It felt like his heart had been ripped cleanly from his body, probably because it had been.

The Deathstalker raised him high before slamming him hard onto the ground below.

And, for the first time, Jaune Arc died.

=II=

**[2] **

He awoke to pain. Was this what dying felt like?

Hold on… he was punctured through his chest, wasn't he? What was this gut-wrenching sensation, then?

"Urgh…"

Holy heck, he was going to vomit, wasn't he? How was that even possible, at a time like this?

"Blargh— blergh!"

The green contents of his stomach deposited themselves onto metal.

He heaved, gasping for air while simultaneously trying to turn and fend off an assault.

"Arghhhh—"

Wait. Metal?

This wasn't a cave. He looked around, eyes wide. This was the interior of an airship!

"Blargh?"

"Eww. Eww. Ewwwww!"

"Yang?" he asked, incredulous. What was happening? Were they on some sort of transport ship? Had he been taken to a hospital at all, or did his aura heal him? Whatever happened to that Deathstalker? And Pyrrha?

"… do I know you, Vomit Boy?" the blonde hissed.

He blinked. "What are you talking about? We met like yesterday!"

"Oh, I think I'd definitely have remembered _that_," Yang seethed, looking down at her designer shoes, which were now stained with vomit.

_Fresh_ vomit.

Had she gotten replacement shoes that fast?

"Come on, Ruby," she sighed, dragging the smaller girl along, who looked decidedly green in the face.

"And watch where you're puking, Vomit Boy!"

Deja Vu, much?

He stood up, leaning against the wall to combat the growing nausea. The last thing he remembered was that Deathstalker's stinger slicing through his chest, then this. He didn't even remember blacking out.

Strange.

And why were Yang and Ruby being so distant? He'd failed them, hadn't he? His heart lurched at the thought. If not for Pyrrha saving him— she _must've_, for him to still be alive, right?— he'd have died, truly and permanently.

"…The robbery was lead by notorious criminal Roman Torchwick, who continues to evade authorities," a voice blared from a TV screen.

Wait a second… hadn't he heard that exact line two days ago?

And come to think of it, this scenario was strangely familiar…

He stopped a passenger, some important-looking businessman. "Hey. Excuse me? Sorry to bother, but where is this airship headed?"

The man gave him an awkward once-over. "…Beacon…" he said, his eyes narrowed. "How exactly are you unfamiliar with the destination of a journey you bought a ticket to undertake?"

He staggered back.

What the heck?!

There was no time for consternation. Another lurch of the ship brought his vomit back with a vengeance. He'd just barely made it to the same bathroom before retching all over the sink. Again.

"What is happening…?" he muttered.

But the puke kept coming, so he didn't worry overmuch about it.

The next hour was his own personal hell. The experience from having to experience something almost completely similar a mere day before didn't help matters.

As the ship finally landed, he was left dry heaving by the toilet. Then, a crazy, unlikely, _impossible_ thought hit him.

"Was that all… a _dream?_" he whispered.

It must've been! He'd hallucinated and fabricated events for the past two days. Probably some sort of confusion caused by sheer nausea. Yeah, that was it. Human minds were so crazy sometimes.

Although, that dream was specific. Almost oddly so.

Hmm.

Something to think on as he exited the ship, perhaps.

=II=

He'd never seen Beacon before, so he wasn't sure how he knew exactly what It would look like.

It looked basically the same as it had in his dream, architecture and all! Scratch that— it _was_ the same, down to the placement of the rocks and the rivers!

Stranger and stranger…

Did he have some sort of prophetic dream about the future?

How was that even possible?

Well, this time, he wouldn't get lost. No, sir.

The main hall was just a few hundred feet forward and to the left, right?

His dream turned out correct about that, too.

Huh. How convenient.

Well, dinner and sleep wouldn't start for another several hours. Jaune sat down on a stone bench outside of the hall, placing his hands against the weight of the rock.

"This just keeps getting crazier..."

He was _sure_ he hadn't met Yang and Ruby before. Somehow, his dream must've included foreknowledge about that— and more. So were Pyrrha and Weiss real too, then? What about that initiation— that must really be happening!

And that scorpion Grimm— no, Deathstalker…

He gulped.

Well, he supposed there was only one way to truly verify it. He had a sinking suspicion he was correct, but meandered over to a certain spot anyways.

Just in time to catch the most beautiful girl in the world storming off in a tantrum.

"Wait!" he called, running up to her. "Weiss!"

She turned. "What?"

"Do you recognize me?" he asked, desperate. She frowned. "Are you a fan? Sadly, I don't remember every admirer I've met during concerts. And I'd prefer if we kept my performance history a secret. That's a part of me I've left behind."

Weiss was a _singer_, too? Could she become any more perfect?

"I'm not a fan. Well— er, I'm a fan of _you_, I guess," he said, smiling. "I'm Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. The ladies love it."

"Right…" said Weiss, looking unamused. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have something to get to…"

"I'll come with you!" he offered, still maintaining his smile. This was great! With his foreknowledge of her tendencies— albeit, through a limited sample size— he'd be able to charm her socks off for sure!

"I have something to get to _alone_," she ammended, glaring at him. "And _please_ don't be one of those stalker creeps. I hate those kinds of fans the most."

He didn't know quite what to say to that, and so just stared at her back as she walked away.

Confidence… is key…

No, he couldn't stop doubting himself now.

Jaune Arc was nothing if not persistent.

=II=

This time, he got up bright and early with a pre-memorized locker code. He timed his exit just when Weiss and Pyrrha entered, as if on cue.

"Snow Angel!" he crowed.

She facepalmed.

"If you call me that again, I _will_ hurt you," she warned.

"Oh, come on, Snow Angel," he crooned, walking up to her with his trademark smile. "I hear we're forming teams today. What do you say you and I be partners?"

"How about no."

"I've got to say, spots are filling up quick," Jaune pitched. "I might be able to pull some strings, sneak you onto the team."

"Are you aware of what the word 'no' means?"

"Sure am. And are _you_ aware what you're passing up on? Don't worry about stealing someone else's spot— I've reserved one just for you."

"No." growled the hottest girl on the planet, "Please _go_ away."

"No can do, Ice Queen."

"Hi!" interjected Pyrrha, smiling. "I'm Pyrrha. And who might you be?"

Sweet, sweet Pyrrha. "Hey! I'm Jaune. Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. The ladies love it." he replied. Only halfway through his greeting did he remember to reintroduce himself; they only knew each other in his dream, after all. Hs oddly specific, prophetic dream. He didn't dwell on it.

"You're Pyrrha Nikos, right? Four-time Mistralian champion? On the cover of every box of Pumpkin Pete's? It's an honor to meet you!"

Strange. Why did her smile tighten like that?

"Likewise," she replied, though in a subdued tone.

"Oh, you can't be thinking about asking Pyrrha to join your team, can you?" Weiss rolled her eyes.

"Of course I am," he smiled. "And you, too. I'll make a great leader— right, Pyrrha?"

Her smile tightened even further. "Jaune, I think it's a bit early to start thinking about teams, don't you?"

He froze.

Weird. In his dreams, Pyrrha had stood up for him almost immediately. "Well, then _you_, Snow Angel, can have the privilege of being _my_—"

"I think I've just about had enough of your rambling," Weiss snapped. "Listen to me. Listen to me loud and clear, and be sure to remember this every time you so much as _look_ at either of us. _You are nowhere _near _qualified _to ask either of us to even glance in your direction! Quite frankly, you seem dense, boorish, overconfident, and your smile creeps me out. So please— _please_— _go away._"

"Oh, please," he scoffed, though his heart was in freefall. "Playing hard to get? What do you say we—"

"Look me in the eyes, moron."

He did.

Wow. That was some _real_ hatred.

"Go. Away!"

He did.

=II=

"Confidence…" he mumbled to himself. He'd gone through the rest of that morning in a strange haze, fading in and out of reality. He didn't want to so much as attempt a smile now. Who knows? He might creep some other poor girl out.

Dimly, he noticed they were standing on the launchpads. Fling. Fling. Fling.

He sighed.

What went wrong? He wasn't the most handsome of guys, but all guys needed was confidence! His dad said so, and he'd dated more women than Jaune could count!

Dad had the kind of smile that would dazzle, though. Not _creep_ people out, as his apparently did.

He sighed.

He wasn't a quitter. He was anything but a quitter! But after that dressing-down, even he didn't want to touch Weiss with a ten foot pole.

He was sure she wouldn't touch him with a hundred.

Oh, cool. They'd flung him into the air. And now he was falling, as per schedule. Another day, another attempt. At least he knew to avoid that cave with the Deathstalker this time.

Even though he knew he was in no real danger, the vertigo of freefall still got to him. Almost subconsciously, he clenched his legs and teeth together.

A javelin would come flying any minute now, nailing him straight to the tree.

Where he'd meet Weiss again…

Oh, was he not looking forward to that.

He'd reached the treeline now, and the ground rushed up to greet him.

Any second now, that red javelin would impale his hoodie to the tree.

Any second now.

…

Pyrrha was being awfully slow about it this time around, wasn't she?

Splat.

One hundred and seventy pounds of flesh hit the ground at mach speed.

For the second time, Jaune died.

=II=

**[3] **

An all-too-familiar nausea rose up within him. Metal walkway, glass window, clouds below—

Was this the airship, again?

What had just happened? A dream _within_ a dream, or something?

All of his questions were put on hold as the very immediate threat of ruining his chances with the second-hottest girl he'd ever seen came to the fore.

He forced himself to his feet and made a break for the nearest trash can.

"Urk— ugh— blargh!"

After his stomach had finished its mini-rebellion, he made a straight beeline for the same private bathroom, brushing aside a certain blonde as he did.

Mission: Don't make Yang hate him immediately was a succcess!

As he retched into the sink, he tried to connect the many scattered dots.

That dream— or, whatever it'd been— felt _real_. Visceral. The first dream especially, that sensation of being gored through the chest? He shuddered, feeling a phantom gap near his heart.

And now again with the fall. Both deaths, though this one had happened instantaneously.

Had they truly been dreams, or were they something more?

"Time… resets?" he whispered, then deposited the last of his stomach's contents into the sink.

The first time was an oddly specific coincidence, but to repeat the same set of circumstances?

That meant he'd died. Well and truly, physically died.

And time had somehow rewound to where it'd all begun.

A shudder passed through him, and he was sure it wasn't from the vomit.

Assuming he hadn't gone insane, which seemed a very distinct possibility—

Somehow, each death brought with it a reset.

Which meant that Pyrrha didn't bother saving him.

Why? He thought the redheaded girl liked him! She unlocked his aura, they'd talked, and he'd even thought they were becoming close friends!

That was the first time around, though, he reminded himself. He might've gone overboard with the confidence his second run-through…

To be honest, he still wasn't over Weiss's words. Somehow, he had an inkling that no amount of confidence would win her over. Okay— in hindsight, it was blindingly obvious. It just took a long series of rejections, and one extra-painful one at the end, to get it through his skull, apparently.

Forget about Weiss. Yes, she was insanely beautiful. Yes, he totally wasn't over her. But surviving the next day took precedent.

Pyrrha was the goal. She was strong, reliable, friendly, and she'd unlocked his aura. Plan A: Latch onto Pyrrha, stay far clear of that horrible cave, and find the relic.

He could do that.

=II=

"Hi," he smiled, leaning down and offering a hand to a downed Ruby. "Need some help?" The girl took it and leapt spryly to her feet.

To his relief, she didn't mention anything about his vomit.

"Hi! I'm Ruby," she said, her face a bashful red. "Thanks."

"No problem. I'm Jaune, Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue."

He almost said '_the ladies love it_' on instinct, but at this point, he couldn't even fool himself.

Ruby giggled. "I like it."

Wait… what?

"Yeah… you're the only one so far," he mumbled. "To be honest, I haven't had the best of luck making friends."

"Me neither," the girl sighed. "Five minutes into Beacon and I'm already blowing up— literally. I think that Weiss girl hates me."

Hate?

Compared to her treatment of him, Weiss's relationship with Ruby was practically rosy.

"I wouldn't worry about it. She seems like a… prickly person in general, you know?"

"Heh… I guess that's one way to put it," she giggled. There was a moment's pause as he tried to figure out where to go based on past landmarks. The hall was that way, right?

"So… I've got this thing!"

A ten-foot-long mechanical death scythe burst out from behind her back and cut into the ground with a thunk.

"Woah!"

He spent the next ten minutes talking to a very nice girl about weaponry.

All in all, a much better start.

=II=

Next day was go time. He'd picked a locker specifically next to Pyrrha's gear. To avoid suspicion, he timed his arrival thirty seconds after she and Weiss arrived. Making a pointed effort not to stare at the icy girl, he walked up to the locker and began entering the combination.

"So, Pyrrha! Have you given any thought to what team you'd like to be on? I'm sure everyone would love the opportunity to partner up with a strong, well-known individual such as yourself!"

"Hmm…" his would-be savior muttered. "I'm not quite sure. I was planning on letting the chips fall where they may."

"Well, I was thinking we could be on a team together."

His heart drooped as he wrenched Crocea Mors free of the locker. No! Absolutely not. Without Pyrrha, he wouldn't survive the first five seconds!

"Well, that sounds grand!"

Oh, crud.

"Hi!" he interjected, cringing a little at Weiss's annoyed glance but focusing his gaze on Pyrrha. "Sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear you talking about teams. Do you know how they're picked? I hear we're being paired for the next _four years_…"

"I don't know, but I hope it's not something arbitrary," she mused. _She didn't know the half of it_.

"Yeah, me too… I'm Jaune, by the way. Jaune Arc." He held out a hand. "And you are?"

She glanced at him, a bit surprised.

"You mean to say you _don't_ know who she is?" Weiss hissed. It took a monumental effort for him not to keel over at the sound of her voice.

"Should I?" he asked in what he hopped as a nonchalant tone.

"She graduated top of her class at Sanctum."

"I'm sure that's impressive, but I can't say I've heard of it."

"She won the Mistralian Regional Tournament four times in a row!"

He blinked, trying to look confused. "The what?"

"She's on the cover of every Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes box!"

"Huh. I guess you're kind of a big deal. That's pretty cool."

"Pretty cool?!"

His crush was almost spitting flames.

"I guess it is," smiled Pyrrha. "Though I don't think they're very good for you…"

"Oh! What do you say we make a team?"

Was it going well enough to ask that? Jaune couldn't really tell, but he shot his shot anyway. He hoped so.

"I'd be thrilled to be on your team, Jaune," laughed the redhead. Score!

Weiss, meanwhile, was looking at Pyrrha like she'd lost her mind.

He somehow held back the urge to flirt with her. It took some effort, but as soon as he recalled what'd happened the last time he made such an attempt, the instinct died fast.

=II=

This time, he braced for impact the whole way down.

_Thunk_.

He cracked open an eye to see foliage above him and a shaft of red and gold pinning him to tree bark.

Yes! Not dead!

Okay. He was ten feet off the ground, nailed to a tree. The previous method of escape— shimmying as hard as he could— clearly didn't work. What if he tried planting both feet on the bark and pushing out?

"Hurgh— hurgh!"

To his relief, the javelin was pulled free with a strong jolt.

Only after did he realize that perhaps pulling out the one thing preventing him from falling might not be the brightest idea.

"Argh!"

In quite possibly the coolest moment of his existence, he somehow managed to land on his feet, absorbing the impact by fully bending his legs.

They hurt like hell, but at least he hadn't landed on his neck or something, right? It'd be such a pain to go through the whole process again.

He looked up just in time to see a head of white hair picking her way over, trying to duck a black-and-red costumed girl pursuing her.

Nope.

Turning, he set off at a brisk pace in the Pyrrha's general direction.

"Hey!" shouted Weiss from behind. "Hey, you! Jaune, was it?"

He pretended not to hear, instead increasing his pace. Priority number one was finding Pyrrha as soon as possible.

To his relief, a lock of crimson hair poked out from behind a tree.

"Jaune!" she smiled. "I suppose this makes us partners."

"I guess so. Oh! I think I have something of yours," he grinned back, presenting her javelin to her.

"Argh!" Weiss squealed from somewhere behind him. Ruby had latched onto her, refusing to let go.

"Alright, alright!" she sighed. "Fine. I'll be your partner, but this does _not_ make us friends."

"Yay!" the diminutive girl cried.

"And _you_," Weiss hissed, turning on him.

"Y-yeah?"

"Are you deaf, or were you intentionally ignoring me?"

"…er… heh…" Jaune scratched the back of his head. "Hey, there doesn't need to be any animosity here, guys. We're all trying to get to the relic, right? Why don't we work together?"

"That sounds like a splendid idea!" agreed Pyrrha, turning to Weiss and Ruby. "What do you say?"

"Sure!" Ruby ran over, a cheery smile on her face. "Weiss?"

"…"

The icy girl looked at Ruby as though she were an abnormally irritating fly.

"Argh! Why did I— okay. Fine. We'll team up, but _I_ decide where we're going."

She pointed a finger in what looked to Jaune to be an arbitrary direction. "That way!"

Then, she set off marching, not so much as glancing back to see if they'd follow.

At least she didn't pick the route leading to the Deathstalker. Shrugging, Jaune followed.

=II=

"How do you _not_ have your Aura unlocked?!" Weiss scoffed.

"Not to worry, Jaune." Pyrrha stepped up, cupping his face with a palm. "For it is in passing that we achieve immortality..."

=II=

"… you have no idea where we're going, do you?"

After about five minutes of an angry Weiss pacing about, Ruby finally brought up what was undoubtedly on everyone's minds.

"Of course I know where I'm going!" she snapped. So confident, so assertive. Jaune couldn't help but be drawn to—

No, Jaune. Bad Jaune.

"We're going… to the forest temple!"

"Ugh…"

"Well, it's not like _you_ know where we're going, either!"

"Maybe you should stop acting like you're perfect!"

"Guys," Jaune interjected, sighing. "Let's not develop teamwork issues before we even _have_ teams. Look, in theory, we're trying to find a forest temple. That side is mountainous terrain, so we should probably search in some other direction. We're also meant to take them back to the cliffs. How about we circle in that direction—"

He pointed to an unexplored area which didn't overlap with what he'd explored on his first reset and the ground they'd covered this reset.

"It's as good a plan as any I've heard so far." And Pyrrha agreed, apparently!

The taller girl's opinion seemed enough to sway Weiss, and Ruby tagged along with a shrug.

=II=

In Jaune's defense, nobody could have seen the giant Nevermore coming.

One moment, they'd crested a hill which overlooked the Forest Temple they'd been searching for. Maybe that instant of relief and accomplishment left the opening.

Whatever the case, the result remained that a screaming, angry Weiss was carted off unceremoniously by the talons of a furious, giant Grimm.

"Jump!" Ruby called.

"Are you crazy?!"

"She's going to fall, isn't she?"

"Yep."

True to their predictions, Weiss began a screaming descent mere moments later. At the last second, however, she somehow managed to produce a stylish glyph beneath her feet, slowing her fall enough to end in a roll on the ground.

Jaune, Ruby, and Pyrrha caught up with her a moment later.

"Weiss! That was so cool!"

"Hmph," she snorted, but Jaune could tell those blue eyes were smug.

"What are we going to do about the Nevermore?" he asked, still eyeing the giant beast circling in the sky.

"We grab the relics and ignore it," answered Pyrrha. She paced toward the temple, and he followed. "Our objective isn't to kill Grimm, after all."

Dashing up, he snatched a random chess piece. Pyrrha, Ruby and Weiss did the same moments after.

Strangely, the few left appeared to be of a similar theme. They'd all chosen the white bishop.

"Alright, guys," Jaune sighed. "To the cliffs."

"Hey! Can we tag along?"

Yang and a dark-haired girl he hadn't yet met poked out from behind a column. "We hear you're heading back."

"Yang!"

"Hey, sis."

Before he could reply, a rumbling from the forest drew his attention.

"Yippee!" cried an orange-haired girl riding a Grimm. Jaune blinked. _Riding _a Grimm! A teen with pink eyes gasped from behind, clinging on to the thing for dear life.

Two more, he guessed. The more the merrier?

=II=

To Jaune's vast disappointment, the Nevermore decided that sitting on the cliffs and waiting them out was a great idea.

He'd never fought a Grimm— heck, he'd barely even seen one in person! This was his cue to exit stage left and let the experienced, prepped, strong Huntsman and Huntresses do the dirty work.

"Alright, Jaune," said Ruby, eyes sharp and weapon at the ready. "What's the plan?"

Seven pairs of eyes swiveled onto him.

"Er…."

How would he know? Did he project an aura of any confidence at all?! Why would they ask him for any ideas about anything?

He was so close to Beacon entrance, just a hair's breadth— or, maybe a Nevermore's feather breadth— away from getting in!

_Calm down, Jaune_. _Just think… _

The Nevermore was large, and it supported itself in the air with two massive wings. Its size, however, meant that it placed heavy burdens on those structures. If either one of them were injured, it would not only be unable to fly, but its overall ground mobility would be reduced to a fraction of its current state.

"Let's go for the left wing," he breathed. "Ren, Ruby, and Blake?"

He'd learned the names of the orange—haired girl and her ninja companion on the trip here. "Distract from the right. You two seem to be the speediest. All we need you to do is kite attacks, keep its attention, and force it to turn toward you. The moment it does, Weiss will use a glyph to propel Yang and Nora to deal as much damage as possible to the other wing. It flaps them slowly, so finding purchase by grabbing ahold of feathers and smashing until the joints beneath fail should be a viable strategy. Pyrrha has the most powerful projectile weapon. As it's falling, we can use its weight against it— Pyrrha will throw the javelin from below as it falls. Her force, combined with its sheer momentum, should puncture the javelin through its skull."

Those same six pairs of eyes stared at him.

"Impressive analysis, Jaune," Pyrrha noted, breaking the silence. "Sounds like a plan."

"Can we get this done?" he asked, surveying the heads in the room.

Nods all around.

"Perfect. Let's do this."

=II=

As he watched Ruby, Blake, and Ren skirting up two giant gothic columns to execute a plan he pulled directly out of his ass, he couldn't help but wonder what he was doing.

Confidence was key. That slogan had damn near become his life. Should he be so confident in himself that he allowed others to follow his uninformed orders?

He wasn't a leader of anything, much less Huntsmen!

At least the initial phase appeared to be working. Ruby dove in for quick slashes, and Blake reeled her back before the Nevermore could react. Ren fired projectile shots while dodging, and Blake hopped between pillars, delivering quick slashes with each leap.

The Nevermore swerved, trying to get a better angle with which to strike its attackers, screeching an ear-shattering chorus like nails on a chalkboard amplified a thousandfold.

In the same instant, Yang and Nora launched into the air. They both shot for a joint in the wing, bringing a hammer and two heavy fists down on one point of weakness.

Even on the ground, Jaune heard the snap.

It shrieked again, turning its massive frame to drive off this new annoyance even as its wing refused to support its colossal weight. Unbidden, unwilling, still straining mightily against gravitational pull, it began to fall.

"Wait!" he cautioned to Pyrrha. The shadow loomed above them, but something in Jaune's gut urged him to delay.

"And… now!"

The red streak surged upward just as the Nevermore bucked, exposing a soft, fleshy throat as it fell.

The javelin sliced straight through.

Jaune didn't know what he'd been expecting as he ran back, trying to stay ahead of the Grimm's carcass as it fell. The sound and impact of a several-hundred-ton creature hitting the ground rattled even the trees.

"Wooo!" Yang shouted, fists raised. "Yeah! Go team!"

He collapsed on his butt, and his chest rose and fell in gasps.

They'd made it. It was over.

A part of him- the realistic part- had still expected to be waking up to a puking sensation in the airship after the Nevermore crushed his plans, then squished him.

But against stupidly low odds, he'd somehow made it through alive!

=II=

"And next up…" called Headmaster Ozpin. "Lie Ren, Blake Belladonna, Yang Xiao-Long, and Nora Valkyrie… you've retrieved the White Knight pieces, and shall hereby be named… team RYBN, or Ribbon, lead by Lie Ren."

Jaune cheered as his friends took the stage, as did the rest of their motley group. This was really happening. They were being inducted as true Beacon students! Which meant…

"Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, Weiss Schnee, and Ruby Rose… you've retrieved the White Bishop pieces, and shall hereby be named… team JWPR, or Jupiter, lead by Jaune Arc!"

_What?!_

Weiss mirrored his sentiments audibly two seats over before shooting him a death glare. He could feel it boring into his back even as they walked up to the stage.

Day one was almost over. It'd only get easier from here, right?

He swallowed as he met Weiss's eyes. Her cold, unforgiving, frozen-tundra eyes.

…Right?

**A/N **

**Jaune is a bit of an idiot at the moment, so don't assume first impressions of girls mean ships. **

**Thanks for reads, reviews, follows, faves! **

**Oh— most of the events in this chapter follow Canon almost exclusively (obviously), though that will diverge very soon. The reason for the large number of scene breaks is that I don't feel like repeating every sequential event following Canon, of which there are many. They'll lessen starting next chapter. **

**Preemptively, as to my use of the word Amazonian, which refers to concepts distinctly not on Remnant, I'm sure the adjective has transcended the physical location or historical Greek usage by now. **

**I'm mostly repeating Canon in the first half of the chapter— though with Jaune's spin on things— because I'd like to set the basis before the loops begin. **

**Also… most of these 8k words were written in a day. Not even going to front, I was starting to gas out near the end.**

**Just in case, I read through the whole thing to make sure it remained coherent throughout. Hope y'all enjoyed! **


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